blumaherman:

SUMMER 2013

serialism, editing, and sucking my own dick: a brief rant about being ungrateful but still damnit

so i got published by a place which is like, hooray that’s great! people can read my writing without needing to directly contact me! and now i cannot get that thing published anywhere else technically!! and copyright laws are totally working against me and not for me!!!! but that’s for another cynical rant, not this one.

this one is about editors.

nothing is perfect. everything i write, i read over it probably a couple times a month to see if it still sounds just as right as it did the last time. it never does. so i make those changes. once in a while, there’s always something that slips that was an unforced error, and sometimes i add and subtract entire sentences or whatever, but usually it’s the little things: getting the style and rhythm just right. getting the voice. every change fits this purpose. in that way, a thoroughly looked-over manuscript is kind of like serialist music. if it’s doing its job, every note is in the right order, on the right tone, fitting just the right space. if you change one cog in just a little place, the song changes entirely. the row shifts. it’s a different piece of music, expressing a different idea, having a different dynamism, and most importantly, possessing a different voice.

having an editor is nice too. being published is nice. when you are being published, as many eyes on it as you can please! make sure it’s all good! but please for pleasepleaseplease’s sake PLEASE at least bother to notify about what you are changing before you publish it for good. because, wow remember what I said in the first paragraph about the First Copy basically being the Final Copy for amateur authors? and about how small changes can harm the overall tone in a big way? what you end up publishing may be the stone form of that story for good, and it really is better to ask for permission than to beg for forgiveness.

it’s a shit deal for authors already in the power dynamic, so flipping a couple emails back and forth wouldn’t kill ya if it’s the least you could do. when something does get changed that affects the tone and rhythm, it’s like seeing something out of place. the editor of a work should be a friend in a dialogue, not a poltergeist shifting around the furniture.

 

the work isn’t perfect, but this isn’t a novel. this is something small, something you could talk about quickly and easily. and you would not edit poetry this way. c’mon man. c’mon.

gunshowcomic:

Snip, snap, snout. This tale’s told out.
What are we even doing awake anymore! If you’re anything like me, it’s time to sleep for a week. Let’s do it! See ya monday.
The store is constantly open!

gunshowcomic:

Snip, snap, snout. This tale’s told out.

What are we even doing awake anymore! If you’re anything like me, it’s time to sleep for a week. Let’s do it! See ya monday.

jerkcity:

#5326: kickstarter update no. 4

jerkcity:

#5326: kickstarter update no. 4

notveryraven:

"if you don’t have jelly, use something else." wow, really good lifehack

notveryraven:

"if you don’t have jelly, use something else." wow, really good lifehack

(Source: lifehackable.com)

(Source: bethsiveyer)

adammuto:

No. 44

adammuto:

No. 44

Here’s the thing about gentrification.

The upside is that there is more police presence, better public schools, your trash will get picked up, but there’s a downside. I’m not going to make a generalization. But, in many cases, when people move in they have this Christopher Columbus syndrome. There’s a great tradition [and] heritage in Harlem, Fort Greene and Bed-Stuy. You just can’t come in and blow up the spot like you been there forever.

My father is a great jazz musician, Bill Lee. Did the scores for She’s Gotta Have It, School Daze, Do the Right Thing, and Mo Better Blues. He’s been playing music in our home [in Fort Greene] since 1969. Now, some neighbor moved in, they’re calling the cops on my father saying he’s playing his music too loud. That’s some bullshit.

No one has ever complained, since 1969, about my father playing his jazz music. Now, this new person moves in, they calling the cops? The cops laugh at them! It’s that type of attitude man. That’s not making good neighbors. That’s not coming in the neighborhood being humble.

Mount Morris Park in Harlem. For years, brothers have played African drums on Sunday morning. Now…they’re gone. That’s disrespectful.

You go to Fort Greene today, it’s unrecognizable. Bed-Stuy do or die. Harlem. Lower East Side. DC’s not Chocolate City anymore.

Everybody in the Lower East Side, they moved to Williamsburg. Particularly, my Puerto Rican brother and sisters, they can’t afford Williamsburg anymore because of hipsters. They moved to Bushwick; pretty soon Bushwick is going to be like Williamsburg. After Coney Island there is nowhere else. After the beach at Coney Island, it’s the motherfucking Atlantic Ocean!

Spike Lee (via dreamsactualized)

(Source: thechanelmuse)